


A SpideyPool Cinderella

by Lizmny3



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Cinderella Elements, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mildly OOC, Minor Character Death, Rekindling, Reunions, Written for a Class, amateur writing, arbitrary time skips, drabble-ish, vague science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 16:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizmny3/pseuds/Lizmny3
Summary: A spideypool story with very very vague Cinderella elements.





	A SpideyPool Cinderella

**Author's Note:**

> My first spideypool story and I wrote this for a class so reader beware because they might be a little out of character but I tried and that's what counts. It's heckin short, only about 2400 words, and sort of rushed?? I dunno I just like to post the stories I write so here ya goo.

 

Back in the motherland of Canada, some years ago, I met this cute little nerd somewhere. The where and the why isn’t important to the story. The how, that’s where it gets interesting. I was minding my own business, shoving a corndog in my mouth and on my way to collect my money when I spot him with his face buried in a map. He was glancing up with a confused expression before looking back at the map.

Since I was feeling particularly happy with the prospect of making it rain later that day, I walk up to him and with a charming smile, I offer my services. He was lost on the way to the local university, which was _conveniently_ on the way so I walked him to the main building, talking about all the stores and restaurants lining the streets.

            “You want to avoid Chuck’s; the service is shit and your food is always late. If you want the only qualité Mexican food, Felipe’s is the way to go,” I say, kissing my fingers to show just how delicious it is.

You could say that my boyish charm and ability to point out what will and won’t make your tummy rumbly worked in my favor, getting me the cutie’s name, Peter, and number, above your pay grade. For our first date, I took him to Felipe’s to prove my statement right. During our third date, he told me how he had mistakenly proved my statement about Chuck’s right, too. We discovered a new Italian place _I_ didn’t even know about for our seventh date. It was smooth sailing for the most part.

What didn’t work in my favor was how Peter reacted when he found out that maybe I beat up people for money. A little right hook here, a knife to the neck there, all harmless for the most part but you know, not everyone’s about that life. It kind of threw a wrench in my plans to maybe get a dog together but whatever. It was all cool with we kissed and made up as long as he didn’t get caught up in it. And he didn’t, I really wanted this to work so I made sure of that. Too bad fate had other plans for us.

We had mutually agreed that, when it got closer to Petey Pie having to go back to America, we’d split as I most likely wouldn’t be able to go to America and he had to go back and do big boy things.

 

Fast forward to now where I’m sitting in a dingy old bar in ‘Murica, dear Saint Mag’s back alley party palace. I was saving away under Weasel’s manipulative rule and doing his bidding for him. Just like back at home only worse, because now he could get me strapped for murder _and then_ deported. Then where would I be? Probably in jail and that’s not an option. Weasel is behind the bar ruffling through a bunch of gold cards, trying to figure out which one has the most money that I can accomplish in a timely manner. He lets out a hum at the most recent one he pulls out, checking his phone for something before closing the drawer and slamming the card down with a hard look.

            “This one’s for you, this weekend during that science convention. Dr. Gregory Heinsburg. Make it an in and out, there’ll be too many people there,” he ordered in a low, raspy tone.

            “Okay, but when am I gonna get paid for the last jo–”

            “Did I ask for talk back? You’ll get your money when I feel like you’ve earned it.”

            “I literally killed the–“

            “I literally don’t care, Wade. Remember the part when I said you work for me now? Yeah, so shut it and do what I told you. I don’t _like_ disobedience,” he emphasized the word by leaning over the bar and getting in my face. I didn’t say a word after that, letting my face smooth over. Leaving the gold card in front of me, he walked away to the back and I let out a breath I don’t remember taking and holding. Running a hand through my buzz cut hair, I swipe the card from the table and get the hell out of there, already thinking of how I’ll gather intel on this guy.

\--

After hacking into the guy’s email, I got his itinerary and the first day of the convention he wasn’t presenting. It was perfect as I got to follow him around, albeit still discreet. He had a small crowd around him in almost every room he walked into so catching him during convention hours was not possible. I trailed him around for another hour or so before I left to find something to eat before I solidified my plan of action. Waiting in line for one of the food trucks, I heard a twinkling voice call out my name with obvious confusion lacing their voice. Now, who could that be with such beautiful pipes?

Turning around to face them revealed a familiar gorgeous set of pretty brown eyes and shaggy brown hair that curled at the ends and I just had to let out the loudest gasp I could pressing my hands to my cheeks.

            “Peter!” and he just smiles in response and wow, have I missed those pearly whites. His grin just gets wider.

            “Yeah, they’ve missed you too. Me, three,” he responds and I figure that I spoke my thoughts out loud which totally works.

            “Do you want to eat together? Catch up?” he asks, forehead displayed that familiar crinkle of nervousness like there was ever any doubt I’d say yes.

It wasn’t exactly how we used to be, there was some bit of awkwardness that was there from now having talked to each other in years. It got better, though, the longer we talked. Time just flew by as I listened to him talk about his nerd stuff. He was still just as cute when he did that. Maybe even cuter now.

All too soon, I got a text from Weasel, the chime on my phone only foreboding to me, I’m sure. It put quite a damper on the mood and I had to escape. Promising to see Peter tomorrow and exchanging numbers again, we parted way and I went back to the hell hole that was under Weasel’s thumb.

 

For the second day of the convention, I scoped out the security, the restricted access entrances, exits and private rooms. Spending the time before Peter’s presentation doing the work I was supposed to be doing anyway. I trailed guy again. With the convention being different each day, it definitely seemed best to hit him at night when it was more routine.

When Peter was done presenting, I met up with him again and though I wasn’t dressed to impress, his expression when he saw me was comforting, to say the least. There wasn’t any hand holding with cute waffling fingers but the way our shoulders would brush together every now and then was enough in this moment. And god, had I missed the spark in his eyes when he was trying to mess with me and I would follow along anyway. It was almost like no time had passed since Canada. Almost.

Sitting on a bench with our knees blissfully blushing, with the nervous wrinkling of Peter’s nose, he asked if we could start over, start again. Saying he was moving here for a better research facility and that they could regain what they had let go of before and I just – couldn’t. Having to tell him why, it wasn’t too hard. He knew my past and with me actually killing people this time, I knew he wouldn’t want to get back into it with me. I didn’t want to tell him how much it actually hurt to turn him away, but he still pressed harder, saying he could help me get out. He knew some people that could get me off with no time and he went on and on. Not being able to take the false sense of hope, I told him I was only at the convention to kill Dr. Heinsburg. A tiny “why” spilled from his perfect lips. I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head for a bit.

            “Because if I don’t, I get arrested, deported and thrown in jail there where I’ll probably get killed by the people from way back when.”

This silenced him and for a few moments and I thought he would still try for me. Yet he stayed quiet before getting up abruptly and walking away. Weasel’s message came almost immediately after, the familiar chime echoing in the lonely night air.

 

On the last night of the convention, I waited until it was over. It was clean up time for both them and me. Yesterday’s text from Weasel was that my new gun order had come in so after dressing myself up in my most _fabulous_ merc gear, I headed to Saint Maggie’s to get my last bit of equipment. Slapping on my gloves, I collected the gun from Weasel and attached the silencer, sliding it into my holster.

Having memorized the doctor’s itinerary, I knew on the last night, he was one of the last people presenting and had an early flight in the morning, so he would be leaving to his hotel room soon. He walked into a public bathroom and I followed suit, only going on after he had been in for a few seconds. I waited behind a corner and listened for others but I didn’t hear anyone. Moving forward I raised my gun, gaze hunting for Heinsburg’s heart, finding and pulling the trigger in milliseconds. He immediately fell to the ground and I walked over to his body to make sure he was dead. No pulse.

Just as I was standing, the door burst open with a shout.

            “Wade?!” the voice called and, surprised by the noise as I was sure it would be in and out, I dropped the gun on the body. Torn between explaining to Peter and making sure he wouldn’t tell anyone, I ran. Slipping back through some doors and back out onto the street, I ran, ignoring the chime of Weasel’s text.

\--

Having realized hours later that I had stupidly left the gun there, I started to freak out a little. – Okay maybe more than a little because Weasel soon started to call me and I was not about to answer and have him rail into me. I swear I had about twenty missed calls from him before I shut my phone off and tried to think of a game plan. The planning stage probably would have gone more smoothly if I wasn’t in a panicked state with the messiest apartment known to man. It certainly didn’t because I slipped on– something so hard I wiped out so hard I passed out.

You know, being stressed after being on edge and alert for hours is highkey tiring. So tiring that I, in fact, did not wake up until the sun was peeking from between my crappy blinders and there was an incessant pounding on my door. With a groan, I opened my eyes to a squint and boy did my brain not like that. My noggin didn’t like the loud knocking even more though and so I got up, stumbling my way to the door as I got my footing and unlocked it, pulling it open to reveal… Peter. Peter, who rushed to hug me and had me stumbling farther back into my apartment.

As happy as I was to see Peter after last night, I was confused to why he was being so nice. After questioning him about why, and frankly _how_ , he was here, brushing off his questions about the bump on my head, his brows pulled together before asking if we could sit.

Sitting on my dirty old couch, Peter started from when he walked into the bathroom and I ran out. He knew I would be caught if he called the police, but he didn’t have any choice. After getting questioned and released, he went to his lawyer friend who had a friend who may or may not have access to things he shouldn’t and found out where I lived so he could warn me. That friend convinced him to get some rest before going off to find me. The morning news, however, was already filled with information and that they had the suspect in custody, which I snorted at since I was right here. This caught him off guard.

He thought that since I was here, that I wasn’t the killer, but I assured him I was. He said they found prints on the gun and that’s how they got a match and showed me a picture of who they arrested. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I saw Weasel, birth name Jack Hammer, was who they had. Peter continued that since it was such a high-profile case that he would definitely be getting time in prison and I kind of blocked out the rest of what he said. Weasel was arrested. Weasel would likely be going to jail and I… I would- am-. I’m free

And just like that, I felt a fifty-pound weight leave my chest and tears started to fill my eyes.

            “…Matt said that I should ca– Wade? Wade, are you okay? Why-?” Peter questioned, his soft hands coming to cup my cheeks, his thumbs a little too close to my eyes. Gulping and trying to speak as a wide, relieved grin spread across my face and a few more tears spilled over.

“Peter, he… He was the one who would have had me arrested. He’s been blackmailing me- holding that over my head and now he- Jesus, Peter. I’m free.” And with that, I wipe my tears, letting out a huff of a laugh as I lean back against the couch, Petey Pie still next to me with only one of his hands left on my cheek.

            “This may be bad timing but- I’d like to ask again, Wade. If you’d like to try us again. Without all the drama looming?” I considered this for like a second before locking gazes with Peter and answering.

            “Hell yeah, I’d like to.”


End file.
